Delightful story # 2

Wow....it's Monday the 30th. I've been thinking about and remembering things from my past that I recall with fondness. One such thing that I recall is about a little pig. I don't think it was ever given a name, just called little pig. The extraordainary thing about this little pig was that it never grew in size. It lived about 3 years and died the same size that it was when it was born. It never got over 5 or 6 inches high. However, it's hair did grow. It had hair the length of a normal size hog. The hair on it's sides dragged the ground when it walked. It was, in the truest sence, the runt of the litter. I recall that it followed me everywhere that I would/could allow it to go. Oh yeah.....it slept in a gallon size tomato can. Anyway...just a bit of something I remember that still brings a smile to my face when I recall it. And so it went..........

Looking for the right balance...

Good evening to all. I'm sitting here contemplating what would be the right balance in a healthy blog. I could, as could most of us, dwell on things too negative and that wouldn't be good. On the other hand I could, again as could most of us, dwell exclusively on the positive things which would be warped as far a reality goes. So.....I sit wondering how to hit that balance just right, and also wondering if I'd know if I did get it right. :-) The conclusion I've come to is, that I'll depend on that wonderful group that actually read my blog to let me know if I goes too far one way or the other. There are in my life, as in any life, good and bad, ups and downs. My life has been so very full and so very blest. I've been so many places and seen so many things and known so many people and done so many things that I'm not sure I can blog them all. From time to time I'll share a bit of wisdom that I've picked up on the trip to here. One such bit is this. Trying to have the perfect life and worrying about the absence of said perfection is like staring at the sun. It only hurts your eyes and makes you blind to the real and wonderful world surrounding us.
To answer a question posed to me and in continuation of the previous post. On August 18, 1968, when I departed for the bus station to go to San Diego, my Mom and my two youngest siblings (Karen and Randy) all drove me to the bus station. I remember the trip being relatively quiet. We arrived at the bus station well ahead of time so we just sat and waited. As the bus finally pulled into the bus station a knot formed in my stomach. That knot stayed right in place for a couple of weeks as I tried to cope with a foreign environment. As the bus left the station I recall my Mom and Sister and Brother waving till the bus went out of sight. I wondered if any of the other passengers knew the sadness and homesick feeling I felt through every part of my body. It's been many years since then but I still remember well the events of that August day. Looking back I'm very glad that I didn't know then the things I'd witness and be a part of in the coming years.
Question answered so on to other things. Hopefully some of those things will make you smile a bit. And so it went...........

Departures (the series)......

Hello, Hello.....testing one two three four five....is anyone there? Just checking. I've already said more about the mules than they're worth. (at least to me) So, I'm on to other things, and since this is "my" blog I think I'll talk about me. Especially since I know me better than anyone else, right?

I've sort of been making a mental list of the times in my life that I've left from somewhere that I really wanted to stay. One of the sadest times I can remember is the day (August 18, 1968) that I left the home I'd known for 19 years to go to San Diego to begin my years in the Navy. I remember saying goodbye to my Dad before I left home headed to the bus station. The memory of that time is still very painful for me to recall. His 2nd oldest son had died a few years before, His oldest son had gone into the Army a couple of years before and now his middle son was leaving. At a very unstable time in the life of our country I might add. The memory of him choking back tears still sear my memories of that occasion. The last words I recall him saying before I left was "Son, you'll never live at home again". As it turned out, he was right. The words that he spoke and the look on his face stayed with me for a very long time. As a matter of fact, it still does. He passed away in 1988 after losing his 3 year fight with cancer. When he died it left a hole in my life that remains there to this day. Enough for now. I need a break from writing this post.

Ok, ok. Everyone stop sobbing and get busy at whatever you need to be busy at. :-D And so it went.........

Two questions for everyone......

Question one.....Has anyone read the book of Ecclesiastes very much...a wonderful book.
Question two.....How does one live with a loss brought on by a bad choice?
That's it...something to do and something to ponder.
Later

Perspective.....

Well....Here I am once again. It's Saturday night and I'm home alone and enjoying it very much. Plus, it's cheaper this way. I've had requests for a bit more about those two evil entities that were a plague to my teenage years. I speak of the red mule and brown mule with which I spent so much time. I hesitate about saying much more lest too much credit be given them for my having turned out so magnificently. :-) I do have memories of occasions that were extraordinary. One such memory that sticks out from others is the time that, having been up since about 4:30 am and having just finished 2 hours of chores and a hearty breakfast, I went to harness one of the mules. After having tried to run them into the barn and thus in the stalls, and having been almost killed for my efforts, I enlisted the aid of my youngest brother Randy. Once again we had no success in getting the mules into the barn. At that time I sent Randy to the house to fetch my 20 gauge shotgun and one shell. Having obtained said gun we went once again to round up the mules (which were snickering at us I might add). Having laid out my plan to Randy and instructed him on the proper course of action for himself, I made ready to do my worst. At this point I must add that my temper had given way to rage and I was gleefully looking forward to my planned action. As the mules came running toward us, which I knew that would do, I took careful aim at the first mule that ran by, which happened to be the black mule. Yep, I unloaded the number 9 bird shot into him. Now please don't think badly of me yet. I must explain that I was a good distance from him and did him no permanent damage. Having unloaded the gun, Randy and I walked to the back of the pasture to try once again to run them into the barn. As we approached them I pointed the now empty shotgun at them and they began running. We walked leisurely to the barn. Upon arriving at the barn we found the mules not only in the barn but in their respective stalls waiting to be harnessed. I didn't confess the dastardly deed to my Dad for several years. I might add, those mules were very, very well behaved for several weeks.
The next post is forthcoming so ya'll try to relax till then. And so it went..........

ME???

Hey......I'm back, but with a cruel trick. I have decided to say some things about me before I continue with my eloquent and dramatic story.

I find myself, at age 56, in a quandary. For the first time in my life I find myself in a position to relax and fulfill some long held dreams. No, no, no....that's not the quandary. That's next. Since I've never had a chance to do that, having worked long and hard for as long as I can remember, I've realized that I don't know how. I know, I know....it sounds silly, and maybe it is, but learn how I must. I wish someone could simply tell me how but I fear that this is something I must learn on my own. My first goal has been to regain my health, which I've been able to do. Now I must begin learning to relax. Not all the time...I still enjoy doing things. Completely wiring a house for electricity, or rewiring an existing house is still fun. Building things are still fun. But as fun as it is....it's still work. Since I have some limitations physically I have to be careful on what I try. No golf :-( No basketball :-( Oh well. I still can fish :-)

Ok, enough about that. I've had a request to tell more about my brother Dennis. Dennis was very handsome and charming. He was, at 17 years of age, 5 ft. 10 inches tall and weighed about 170 pounds or so. That would explain his always having a girl friend. Sometime He'd have one at school, one at church and one in the neighborhood :-D Dennis was, for all of his trying to be "manly", very kind and compassionate. He'd go out of his way to help anyone or anything. He was also a very good athlete. I still miss him after all this time.

Ok......enough for now. Next time I will, almong other things, tell a bit more about my ex-nemesis, the mules. Soon I'll get to the interesting part of this life.

Two molding relationships...

And here I am once again, delivering a promised and much looked forward to post. ( Hey, it's my dream, I can make it as big as I want.) This post is about my relationship (not voluntary) with two entities. They neither one ever had a name. I just always referred to them as the "red mule" and the "black mule". I still ponder to this day whether I hated them more or they hated me more. That could go either way. They were named, quite obviously, because of their color, the I often used adjectives in conjunction with their "name". They both had their own peculiarities. Such one peculiarity was that the black mule was blind in his right eye. He often used that as an excuse, when one mistakenly, walked by him on the right side, to bolt and run for the barn. When that would happen I quite often developed a strange twitch on my face. The twitch stopped permanently only when both mules died. As a matter of fact, I was in the South pacific when they died, but I knew the instant they passed. I worked twice as hard as either mule. I used one in the a.m., till lunch, using the other in the p.m. Besides, between the two of them, they had four times more legs than I did, which meant I took 8 times more steps. Well, you do the math. Those mules were a part of my life for several years, so we (I and them) contrived numerous and sundry ways to make life miserable for each other. All the parties involved became quite adept at contriving misery for each other. If I had a dollar for every step I took while walking behind them I'd be on level with Bill Gates. Besides, Bill didn't have to put up with a fraction of what I dealt with, so I deserve the money more than him, right? Well....Enough for now. I can at a later date tell more about this relationship if it's requested. The call is yours. Ok, everyone take a deep breath and.......HOLD IT. I'll be back with a new post in a few days.

A quick word about important VIPs

Just a quick word about some very important people. Yep, you guessed it. I'm talking about the Postons and Sharps. I am a very blessed man to have the two daughters I have and doubly blessed to have the sons-in-law that I have. Oh yeah....I could (but won't) go on all night about six young ones. You'll have to figure out on your own who that is. Just want to say thank you to all of them and tell them that I've decided that I'm gonna live till the year 2050, at which time I'll be 101.
More later, at which time I'll tell you all a story about two relationships. These particular relationships helped make me who I am today. Until the next post you'll just have to live in suspense.

A pre-quel

I apologize. The apologize is for causing so many to hold their breath for so long. I know the suspence is killing you all.
I've decided to go back a bit farther. Back to a time that most of you won't remember. You've heard a lot about these times, some right and some wrong. So, I'm gonna set the record straight. The times of which I speak started in the early 1950's. A point in time when, if someone said hard drive we thought you meant a long and arduous trip in your 1949 chevy or ford. A time when ram was only an animal. A time when server was someone that waited tables at a cafe'. I remember when, as a boy of 5+, I walked around in Ft. Lauderdale alone and unafraid. I know, I know. It sounds too good to be true, but true it is.
Ok, on to other things. At the ripe ol' age of 9, along with other members of the family, we loaded up our truck (& car) and moved to Alabama. For me living in Alabama was a dream come true. Four of my favorite people in the whole world lived there. Two sets of Grandparents. Compared to Florida, Alabama was a paradise with wide open spaces in which to play. I had at the time roughly 79 first cousins, about half that lived close. So I had a great many people with which to play. Lightening bugs were abundant. There were thousands upon thousands to catch and put in a jar. I can remember one occasion catching a quart jar almost full and releasing them in my Grandpa and Grandma Jones' house. It was great fun for a short while. Let me not forget the steam train that ran beside their house. It fascinated us when it stopped most days to take on water from the water tank. Watching the nanny goat being milked and gathering the eggs each day was a thrill beyond compare. Playing at the old sawmill was always fun that never stopped.
Then the unexpected happened. I grew up. Time had sneaked up on me (us) and things had begun to change.
Alright, enough for now. Other amazing tales are forthcoming. For now though, back to holding your breath. I'll try not to let it be so long between posts.

Memories (both good and bad)

I'M BACK.....ya'll can stop holding your breath now. Here is another installment to thrill and amaze. :-)
In this edition I'd like to talk about memories. We all have 'em and we all need 'em. As we live our lives we build a system of memories whether we want to or not. As we get older those memories become more and more valuable because they keep us connected to who we once were, those we once knew, and events from our past that define us as we are now. I've been giving thought to the memories that I have collected over the years. Some are precious and some are nightmarish. Some are thought of fondly and some with trepadation. One memory I have that has a bit of both is the life and death of some one many years ago. He was my buddy, best friend as well as my brother. His name was Dennis. How do I describe him? I can't really. We did everything together and were pretty much inseperable. I remember his life with more fondness than I can describe and his death at 17 years of age with grief, even after 42 years. It's one of those memories that has defined, to a degree, who I am. Anyway...enough babbling. I'll let all of you get back to holding your breath. I'll be back with another installment on Monday (I hope). Meanwhile I'm going on a photography weekend with David. He's gonna hunt...I'm gonna take some fantastic photos. See ya in a few days...........................